


Give Me A Hand

by KyeAbove



Series: The Reinforcement Of Agony AU [134]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Captivity, Gen, Ink Baby, The Giant Hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 00:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16713049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeAbove/pseuds/KyeAbove
Summary: Agony:HellIt was there to prevent escape.





	Give Me A Hand

**Author's Note:**

> This introduces some characters who will be forefront in this series, The Giant Hand and The Artist, and sets up a concept in the form of a little something.

~Unknown~

* * *

“Please, I need to find him.”

But it wasn’t going to let The Artist leave. Keeping The Artist here was its mission, its reason for existing. It didn’t know why it had that mission, but it had known it since it formed, and it intended to always follow that mission. Even as it liked The Artist. And it feared, sometimes, if it let The Artist leave, it would be forgotten and left behind.

While a look of despair, The Artist sat down on the dock, legs held just above the ink.

“My son is out there. I need to see him!” 

The Artist often talked of that son, but now also had a baby, rather recently it assumed, because they baby wasn’t there before. The Artist said she was soulless, unwanted, but still held her close. Held her close now, but lacked warmth in the gesture. 

“Aaron, please. He’s out there. I’m not kidding this time! I hear the whispers in the ink. Don’t you hear them too?!”

It liked it when The Artist called him that. It was its name! Only The Artist called it that anymore.

The Artist stood up, shifting the baby around. The baby, Veronica, it recalled The Artist calling her, looked up at her mother as she always did. Seeing everything, processing nothing. She was so new. Impossible, really. But she was here. 

“Aaron, let me free.” The Artist took a step forward, but it used one finger to push back its captive. The Artist let out an anguished cry. Remembering how its father used to do it, when it was so much smaller than it was now, the hand reached out and gave The Artist a pat on the head. Trying to be affectionate. “Aaron. If only you actually understood." 

It didn’t. All it knew was that if The Artist left, destruction could be found, and if The Artist left, it couldn’t follow. It was bound here. Bound here to keep The Artist from leaving. Here to keep The Artist safe. 

Veronica made a sound, and The Artist put a hand over her mouth to quiet her, which she promptly did. Took the contact as affectation, and leaned into the touch. The Artist seemed surprised by the motion.

“She’s…” The Artist stopped the motion, and the blank slate of the inky baby returned. “I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” 

The Artist looked away from daughter, away from the giant hand, and seemingly looked at nothing. Looked lost. 

“Henry is here too...did I mention that?”   


It didn’t know who Henry was. It didn’t care about whoever this Henry was! But this Henry seemed to make The Artist happier. The Artist didn’t smile much, but almost was now.

“The ink whispers about him too. He’s returned...I’m so happy. Aaron, he can help us. But you have to let me leave. I have to find Henry, and my son.” The Artist reached out for it, touching it affectionately. “Aaron, please.”

The giant hand shrinked away. The Artist was doing it again. Trying to make it fail the mission. It failed the mission if it let The Artist leave. 

Somewhat, it was aware that surrounded by a deep puddle The Artist couldn’t cross without being pulled back, The Artist was trapped. Even if the hand  wasn’t there, The Artist was trapped. And still, the hand was here. Maybe it’s purpose was to keep The Artist from going into the puddle, and escaping another way. It’d whimper if it could. It didn’t understand a lot of things. 

“I assumed it was too much to ask. After all, I’ve probably been asking you for years. It has been years, hasn’t it? It has to have been.” 

The Artist’s smile had disappeared. Even if letting The Artist leave was the way to restore that smile, the hand could not allow that. It had this mission to never fail. 

But...it considered for once... _why?_

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes a family is a captive ink creature, a giant hand with the soul of a three year old, and an inky soulless baby. Currently this family is not getting along.


End file.
